


fresh static snow

by ColorsofaYinYang



Series: mcyt fics [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eldritch, Being Incredibly Affectionate with a Complete Stranger, Cuddling, Fluff, Getting Lost in a Snowstorm, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Snow Blindness, Strangers to Lovers, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 04:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorsofaYinYang/pseuds/ColorsofaYinYang
Summary: George gets lost in a snowstorm and meets a mysterious masked stranger, who may or may not be human.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: mcyt fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130342
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	fresh static snow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prisoner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029341) by [PollyPocketChewer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollyPocketChewer/pseuds/PollyPocketChewer). 



> Yes I cranked two fics out in one night, no I'm not okay.
> 
> Written for the March challenge on the Creator's Corner server, please do check it out if you're interested in participating in future giftswaps and challenges: https://discord.gg/Pzkt5QVDwT. The prompts for this one were "I rescued you from the snowstorm, why were you over here anyway?", hurt/comfort, and horror element.
> 
> Title from Fresh Static Snow by Porter Robinson.

The cold is bitter and biting where it’s seeped into his bones, crystal snow caked onto the rims of his winter boots. George tucks his hands into his armpits in a futile attempt to keep them warm. Around him, snowflakes swirl in neverending flurries, coating the fields white as far as the eye can see. Why did he think it was a good idea to try and visit Sapnap in the middle of a snowstorm?

His breath comes out in little visible puffs as he looks around in vain for a place to take shelter. The sun glinting off the pure white landscape is giving him a headache, and his toes are already beginning to tingle with the onset of frostbite. Across the field is a large hill. If he’s lucky, he might be able to find a cave there.

The wind is howling around him as he struggles to lift his feet. Even pulling them out from the half-yard of snow is a challenge, let alone placing them in a way that he doesn’t slip. He has a thick winter coat on, but in the face of the brutal blizzard winds it’s not doing much to keep him warm. Tears are dripping from his eyes from the glare of the snow combined with the wind, forcing him to wipe his eyes every so often. The cloth of his left sleeve is damp and almost crispy with frost from it. 

If he dies here, Sapnap better hold a super nice funeral. A fancy padded coffin with lots of flowers and sad violin playing in the background. He huffs with exertion, pain lancing through his eyes as he squints through the snow at the hill. How far away is it? Is it getting any closer? Not like he has any other goal to work towards, but… it would help a lot with his motivation if it looked like he was making any progress whatsoever. Unfortunately, between the lack of depth perception from the all-white scenery and the blurriness of his vision, it’s hard to tell if he’s travelled 50 yards or just 5. 

Hair flying in his face and frost growing on his eyelashes, he trudges onward. Eventually it reaches a point where he has to stop and take a break, hunched over in the middle of the snowstorm with his chest heaving for air. The snow beneath him looks so soft and comfy… maybe if he just sits down for a little while, he’ll have the energy to continue…

He slumps onto the ground, barely even registering the cold sting of the ice on his rear. Spacing out, he lets his thoughts wander as he stares blankly into the snow. He doesn’t even notice the crunching of footsteps behind him and a shadow looming over him until something touches his shoulder.

His mind is filled with fuzzy static as he glances up over his shoulder. There’s someone standing there (a hybrid?), head tilted curiously as they look down at George. The constant roaring sound of the wind is replaced with an abnormal silence as he looks into the eyes of their mask, the dark beady dots drawing him in like some sort of void.

“Hello,” he greets, voice hoarse and weak. “I’m George.” There should be alarm bells going off in his head, about stranger danger, how this person is merely wearing a sweatshirt yet doesn’t seem to be affected by the weather, and the creeping distortion and glitching around the stranger’s silhouette that may or may not be his imagination. But he has too little energy to spend on panicking now. So instead, he just lowers his head and closes his eyes, feeling his body start to sway to the side.

Warm hands catch him as he falls, with fingers that are too long to be human and tipped with claws. He leans into the touch, seeking the warmth, and the stranger gently pulls him up out of the snow and into their arms. The soft cotton of the sweatshirt masks the smooth porcelain-like texture of their skin, and as he curls into their chest he almost misses the tendril that curls tenderly around his fingers. As it is, he blinks uncomprehendingly at it for a moment before shrugging it off. Whoever, or whatever, they are, it doesn’t seem like they’re trying to hurt George. And for the time being, that’s good enough for him.

Placing his trust in the mysterious masked stranger, he closes his eyes and rests.

~

There’s a static humming sound coming from beneath him.

With a groan he tries to sit up, pain lancing through his head. Peering through crusted-shut eyelids, he winces as the dim light of a campfire hits his retinas. The stranger, whose chest he had been resting on, raises their head as if awakening and perks up. “G̷͔̝̲͑͗̽͝e̵̥̖͌̚ò̴͖̰̗͉̮̹r̷̯̠͆̓̈́̇͝ͅg̴̛̠̤͈̝͉̍̀̀ȅ̸̻͝!”

Their voice sounds like static and reverb, bits and pieces echoing like some sort of filter. George’s brow furrows, yet he still returns to lean against them. He raises his hand to their mask, his fingers trailing curiously along the edges. “Who are you,” he mumbles, not really expecting an answer.

The stranger tilts their head into the touch, headbutting George’s shoulder affectionately. “D̷̰̘̘̳̑͆r̵̹̲̂̐̐͒͝e̶͕̤͓̊͘a̴͖͍̋̔͊̕͘m̸̺̻͕̻͚̆̊̐͋̔͘͜,” they say, tapping their own chest twice. Long gloved fingers come up to cup George’s own, cradling them gently and encouraging them to remove the mask. Hesitantly, George slips his fingertips under the edge and slides it off. Then he stares.

The stranger has the face of a young man, but there’s something strangely off about him that George can’t quite place. He has pale white skin with a constellation of freckles, and eyes as deep blue as the void. When their gazes meet George’s mind fills with fuzz again, thoughts overlapping and colliding until Dream lowers his head and nuzzles his neck with a cold nose.

It’s painful to keep his eyes open for so long, the insides of his eyeballs burning and throbbing the more he uses them. A few tears escape from the corners as he closes them, trying to block out the light which seems to be the source of irritation. Dream makes a concerned noise in the back of his throat, squirming around underneath George to get a better look at his face.

“G̷̬̉ê̴̱ǫ̵̕r̷̋͜g̸̯̈́ȇ̸̯ ̴̬̂ẖ̸̌u̷͕͐r̶̬̀ẗ̷͓?” He asks. George shivers as a long inhuman tongue licks the tears from his cheeks. Dream seems to interpret this as him being cold again, for he reaches down to grab the blanket that had been bunched around their legs and carefully tucks it around George.

“Uh, it’s nothing permanent,” he reassures. “I think it’s snow blindness. Just gotta stay away from any light and I’ll be fine.” Dream makes a considering hum, then moves to shift away. “Um, Dream? Where are you going?”

He risks another peek through half-closed eyelids and startles at what he sees. Dream is crouched over the campfire, his sweatshirt half-pulled up his torso. There’s a gaping hole in his chest, the insides swirling with some unknown darkness speckled with tiny stars. George watches in awe and a touch of fear as the light from the campfire dims without the fire actually going out, the illumination simply being sucked into the void. When it’s suitably dark, the hole sews itself shut with tiny tendrils poking through the skin, and Dream lowers his sweatshirt looking rather pleased with himself. “N̸̢̞͚̑̐ȍ̷͔͂ ̶͓̙̝̒͛͗l̶̮̋i̸̜͙̥͋ġ̵̩ͅḧ̸̜́́͐ṭ̶̪̆͋!” He chirps, glancing expectantly at George as if waiting for praise.

George gestures for him to come and reaches to pat his hair when he’s within reach. “Thank you,” he says, resting his hand atop brown-blonde curls. He has no clue what the hell Dream is, but he’s glad he seems to be docile. Dream purrs, throat hissing with static, and curls up underneath the blanket again with him.

He briefly entertains the thought of trying to contact Sapnap to ask for a ride back or something along those lines, but just thinking about looking at the bright LED screen makes him nauseous, and he doesn’t fancy trying to explain to Dream how to use a phone. From what he can remember of the battery, it’s likely already dead anyways. Maybe if there’s some sort of house nearby, he can ask to use their phone.

For now, though, it’s in his best interest to rest and get his energy back up. He tentatively laces his fingers in Dream’s and chuckles when the taller moves to bury his face in George’s neck, whole body rumbling with his purrs. Listening to the sound of the fire crackling, the faint whispering of the wind and the quiet purr of static, he takes a deep breath and drifts off into slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stuck on this eldritch au for so long, I was originally dead set on doing an SBI-centric one first, but then I reread this amazing fic called Prisoner by PollyPocketChewer (linked at the beginning) that just jump-kicked my brain into the wall. I'll probably end up adding more chapters to this as my ideas get fleshed out: an SBI one, maybe one with Bad, or even one where George is the eldritch being and Dream is the human...


End file.
